


Smooth Seas

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Christmas Presents, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 20:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: After the holidays, Phryne and Jack finally exchange their gifts. A follow-up toCreatures of Stillness. Written for the 2016 Phryne Ficathon.





	Smooth Seas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allison_Wonderland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allison_Wonderland/gifts).



> Written for Allison_Wonderland, for the prompt "Winter in London. A big warm bed. And two sleepy people tucked away from the world." (I didn’t manage London, but I got everything else. ♥) If you’re on Tumblr, please consider following me at [gaslightgallows.tumblr.com](http://gaslightgallows.tumblr.com) for more fic, reblogs about writing, and lots of randomness.

The bed beneath her was so exquisitely soft, and the bedclothes above her were so wonderfully warm, that when Jack left the bed, no doubt to answer the call of nature or something equally prosaic, Phryne almost didn’t care. His warmth and his scent lingered in the sheets, filling Phryne’s subconscious with a pervading sense of safety, of home.

“I love you,” she murmured thickly, reaching for Jack’s pillow and cuddling it to her cheek. 

Somewhere off in the distance, she heard him chuckle. “I love you, too.”

Phryne slept again. She was tired. 

It had been a whirlwind of society engagements, from the day after Jack’s appearance on her doorstep to the day of their escape from London, New Year’s Day. True to her word, she had dragged Jack to every single Christmas and New Year’s party she had been invited to, and a good many she hadn’t. Now, a few days into nineteen-thirty, they were exhausted, and busy sleeping off the parties in a cozy little hotel somewhere in the Continental countryside. Neither of them quite knew where they were, and neither especially cared. Jack was worn out with all of the intense socializing, particularly after spending the previous four month on a cargo ship with sailors. And Phryne, despite being far more accustomed to that sort of crazy social atmosphere, was glad of a chance to get away from her family and from London’s prying eyes, and rest.

When she woke again, only a few minutes later, though it seemed like hours, she felt utterly relaxed and content with life. She rolled over and was greeted with the sight of Jack standing at the window of their warm, rustic little room, examining the weather, which had turned snow-white and stormy. 

_Definitely not in England, then._

Phryne, however, was less concerned with the weather and far more interested in ogling Jack’s naked back and backside. “Giving the countryside a show?”

Jack glanced over his shoulder, his eyes warm and affectionate. “If I can’t see out, I think it rather unlikely anyone passing by will be able to see in.”

“Still, one never knows.”

“What’s wrong, don’t want to share your toys?” he teased.

Phryne held out her arms. “You left me ages ago and I’m positively _freezing_. Come back to bed?”

“Oh, well, as you’ve asked so politely…” Jack turned round, giving Phryne a full view of the body she so admired, and climbed back into bed. He stretched out beside her and pulled her gently into his arms, and submitted to her kisses with a satisfied “Mmm. I don’t think we’ll be able to leave for Italy for a few days.” 

“How irritating. We’ll just have to stay here until the weather improves.”

“I know. Dreadful.” Jack snuck his legs under the blankets and cuddled against her. “Absolute hell,” he sighed, pillowing his cheek on Phryne’s breasts. 

For a long luxurious time, they lay together in companionable silence, with Phryne stroking Jack’s hair and he concentrating on the quiet working of her heart and lungs. 

“You know,” Phryne said after a while, her soft wheedling voice bringing a knowing smile to Jack’s lips, “we never did give one another our Christmas presents.”

“No. We agreed it would be better to exchange them after New Year’s, when it would be quieter.”

“It’s after New Year’s _now_ , and it _is_ quieter…”

“And you’d like your last present now, please, Father Christmas?”

Phryne scowled playfully and tugged his hair; he moaned softly. “If you’re going to be cheeky, Jack, you won’t get your present.”

“I thought you liked it when I was cheeky,” he retorted, letting his tongue flick over her nipple. Phryne sighed and carded her fingers more energetically through his thick brown hair. 

“Darling…”

Jack pulled her nipple into his mouth, and then pulled Phryne beneath him. She buried her mouth in his hair and welcomed him into her body, relishing the familiar heft and weight of his cock, and shocked at how new he still felt, after two frenetic weeks of dancing and love-making, the one right after the other, sometimes so hard on the other’s heels that they blended together in Phryne’s memory. 

She clung to him, and that act didn’t feel nearly as frightening as it had, less than a month before. 

“Mmm…” she hummed afterward, nuzzling her cheek against Jack’s hair, “ _now_ may I give you your present?”

Jack let out a slightly breathless laugh. “Oh, so it’s that you want to _give_ , now, is it? Yes, all right, love.” He kissed her thoroughly, though, before he let her out of bed. 

She bounded up and went to the pile of luggage they had unceremoniously dumped in the corner upon their arrival. She could feel Jack’s eyes lingering on her naked backside, and smirked. “No peeking.”

“Fine, fine… safely blind.”

Phryne plucked the parcel from her suitcase and went back to bed, draping herself rather carelessly before him. “Open up.”

Jack opened his eyes, looked down, and blinked. “Happy Christmas to me…”

“You’re an ass, Jack Robinson, and I adore you. Here.” From behind her back, she brought forth a beautiful black leather case. “Use it in good health.”

He took it rather gingerly and looked it over. “It’s not an electrical massager, is it?”

“ _No_ , although if I’d known you wanted one…”

Jack gave her a look and opened the case. Inside, he found the beautiful silver fittings of an elaborately expensive shaving case, complete with a new badger-hair brush, an ivory cup, luxurious shaving soap, cut-crystal bottles of lotion and aftershave from the best shops in Bond Street, everything a well-groomed detective-inspector of the better sort could ask for. Everything, in fact, except the razor, which was conspicuously absent.

“You already have a razor,” said Phryne simply, in answer to his unspoken question. “I didn’t for a moment wish to replace it. Just… give it a rather nicer home.”

And then she held her breath, as the deep intimacy of the gift hit her fully, for the first time. The straight razor that Jack treasured so much was a bequest, a relic of a shipmate, of times with his father, and a memento of the day that had changed their lives forever. A great deal of import, to be placed upon the edge of one shabby little yellow-handled blade, and Phryne was abruptly consumed with terror that it was too much, or somehow, that it was not enough.

“Phryne,” Jack murmured, handling the silver fittings with care, “this is exquisite. Thank you.” He set the case reverently on the bedside table and, his eyes swimming, reached for her.

He kissed her softly, his lips tasting salty-sweet.

“Although if you _want_ an electrical massager…”

“Oh, shut up,” Jack groaned. 

“So you like it?”

“Yes, Phryne, I like it.”

“I’d be happy to test it out for you, if you like.”

Jack smiled. “You’ll have to wait a bit for that,” he pointed out, rubbing his still-smooth cheek, cat-like, against Phryne’s face.

“Oh, I meant to try out all that lovely soap and lotion on myself.”

“Where? On your legs?” 

“Hmm, a bit higher.” 

“Under your arms?” 

“A bit lower...” 

“Mmm,” Jack rumbled. “Very generous, but for my part, I’d rather you didn’t.” He combed his fingertips lightly through her still-damp pubic hair. “I like this.”

Phryne shivered deliciously. “May I have my present now?”

“Hmm… close your eyes.”

Obediently, Phryne did so, racking her brain and trying to guess what Jack might have chosen. A book of Shakespeare? Something with swallows? …An electrical massager?

“Hold out your hands.”

A light papery parcel was laid across Phryne’s palms, and then there was a rustle as Jack pulled back the coverings. “It’s a little esoteric,” he said, somewhat apologetically, “but as I was trying to find a gift for a woman who has everything, I had to get creative.” His lips brushed over Phryne’s hair. “Open your eyes.”

Phryne looked down… and smiled. In her hands was a delicately-framed print of a eighteenth century woodcut, depicting a fierce-looking woman in men’s clothes, her shirt open to bare her breasts, with her hair streaming and pistols in her hands, against a background of sailing ships. “Anne Bonny, the most infamous of female pirates.”

“It felt appropriate,” Jack agreed, perching beside her.

“So, does that make you Calico Jack?” 

He threw back his head and laughed, great ringing peals of laughter that rippled through Phryne’s body and made her feel giddy. 

“Wherever did you find this?”

“Oh, some little bookseller’s, somewhere. Look at the back.” There was a note of repressed excitement in his voice that Phryne simply couldn’t resist. 

She turned the framed print over and saw an inscription, written in Jack’s cramped, difficult script. It took her a few moments to decipher. “‘To my lissome pirate girl. Smooth seas never made strong sailors.’”

Phryne bit her lip hard as a wave of tears suddenly pushed at the back of her eyes. “To hell with smooth seas,” she agreed, choking on her words and laughing as she pulled Jack in for a long, tight hug. “And to hell with Italy. Let’s go to Jamaica.”


End file.
